


Spit Spot, Who is Worthy?

by LateStarter58



Series: The Loki and Theresa Stories [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 18:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16770799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: Asgard is threatened, and Theresa and her children are in grave danger.





	Spit Spot, Who is Worthy?

**Author's Note:**

> This is story number 8 in the series, and the last for now. There may be more to come, who knows? This one was born of my need to write a positive tale after seeing a certain other movie, and it is my personal spin on how the events of Ragnarok might have turned out...

“Madam, you must come with me now.”

The great Gatekeeper of Asgard stands resolute, arms folded, in the centre of the living chamber of our suite of rooms. His golden eyes glitter at me, his face apparently tranquil. Now, old Heimdall is pretty opaque as a rule. His utterances are, indeed, the very definition of ‘gnomic’, but for once he is being as clear as crystal. I look around me. Various members of the staff are bustling about with hastily packed leather bags and wooden cases. Mary Poppins, our ‘nanny’ (don't ask me to explain precisely _what_ she is, Loki could tell you if he felt so inclined as she’s his creation), paler even than usual in her dark green tunic and loose trousers, is gathering up my baby son Frey and all his kit and caboodle. Gerda, dear, sweet, patient Gerda, my personal maid, blonder than blonde, the most Swedish-looking person I know even by the standards of this place, has Lily’s hand firmly in hers. My garrulous daughter is quiet for once, her other hand holding tightly onto her precious box of Duplo. Both my children are looking at me anxiously, their eyes wide. The all-pervading atmosphere is one of fear. I hesitate, suddenly horribly afraid for Loki.

Heimdall clears his throat. “We must leave the palace, my Queen.”

“What’s happening, Heimdall? Where is my husband? And Prince Thor?”

“They are on Midgard, Madam, but I fear they are not alone. We must get you and the children to a place of safety, until any possible danger has passed.”

He is looking at me very firmly, so rather than question him further I do as he says and allow him to guide me through the maze of wide hallways and narrow corridors, out through a dark, quiet, possibly even secret doorway and off into the hills that surround the city.

_________________________________________________

Life seemed pretty normal, safe and secure, just a few days ago, but then, I suppose it would, wouldn’t it? Up here in the - almost literally - ivory towers of Asgard, it’s easy to get cut off from the rest of the...I was going to say _world_ , but that really should be _universe_ , right? Especially for me, as a mother and queen - still not used to that and probably never will be. ‘Queen’, I mean. It’s nuts… Unless I actively seek knowledge, I don’t get to hear what’s going on. This is partly because the staff here still don’t really know what to make of me so they barely speak in my presence, but mainly because I am married to the most secretive person _in the - um - realm_. But, even if Loki is not one for wearing his heart on his sleeve for the general populace, I do have one ace up mine: I can read him like a book. We have talked about this, and we both agree that even though I am a mere mortal, the love we have for each other seems to give me some insight. We two have a deep connection. Of course, he can read my mind, more or less. It’s not always a disadvantage.

Anyway, I’ve been aware that things between him and Thor have been… well, if what they used to wage was a ‘cold’ war, now they are talking properly, it’s warmed up, so to speak; there have been some big fights. Not actual fisticuffs, thank fuck, but shouting matches that rumble on for days and days. And oh, by the way, when I say ‘rumble’ I mean that _literally_. From my perspective, this more open warfare has been a generally positive development, because I’m always in favour of talking about shit, rather than letting it fester, you know. That got us in trouble before, and Lokes and I agreed to say what we felt from now on… It helps, I know it. And when he isn’t incandescent with fury - which he can be, he sort of glows, all golden - Loki has definitely seemed happier. To continue my analogy, I think a boil has been, or is being, lanced. It’s a painful process; unpleasant, but necessary. One - the most recent - of the bust-ups happened in our rooms, and so I got to hear what it was about. It was just three days ago, and as I suspected, their father was the bone of contention.

It’s been around three months since our wedding, and I am about four months along with the new baby. That means I am already quite big and that I am getting worn out by mid-afternoon, despite the fact that I do fuck all. Well, that’s not entirely true. When I asked Loki what queens are supposed to do around here, he laughed and said “ _Be regal._ ” Now, if you knew me, you would find it pretty hard to imagine me being even slightly regal, so I am attempting to carve out a role that suits my outlook on life. Most mornings I do some home schooling with Lily. She is bright as a button, and so it’s pretty easy, to be honest, except when she gets frustrated. I wonder if she might be dyspraxic - fine motor skills are hard for her - and writing is coming a lot slower than reading, But she is getting there, and the Æsir tutor she has is enthusiastic enough. I’d quite like her to go to a proper school soon, but her step-father is not sure. Apparently, it’s ‘not protocol’. I fear he might be a bit of a snob. Who could have guessed?

The rest of my time is spent on what I suppose you could describe as ‘good works’. I know, it’s a cliché, the royal family handing out bounty… but I want to understand Asgard - all of it, not just this palace - and that means getting out and meeting people. I have got the Healers to start clinics in the city for poor mothers and babies, and I try to go to one or two of those a week. Despite all the wealth and technology here, there are struggling families, single parents. I’ve been where they are, and I want to help. I like to think of it as ‘paying it forward’.

But as I was saying, by the middle of the afternoon I need to get my aching feet up on a cushion and my back eased, so I was lying down with a book this particular day when the discussion began. Loki was keeping me company when Thor showed up, all bluster and charm for me and the ankle-biters, a little less warmth for his brother, but then, that’s mutual. He’d been off on one of his missions to the other realms, some sort of state visit or something like that and he wanted an urgent debrief.

Mary Poppins bustled the babes out, off for their regular afternoon walk (she’s been doing that so I can have a proper rest) and I decided to make myself scarce too, so I took my Stephen King novel and headed for the chaise longue in our bedchamber, meaning I didn’t hear most of the first part of the conversation. I will confess that I was tempted to earwig a bit; this whole business has been bothering me from day one of my time here. By which I mean Odin’s whereabouts, what happened to him, all that - and as I told you before, my research in the library has only added to my confusion. I needn’t have worried, because it didn't take long for voices to be raised sufficiently for me to make out most what was being said, even through the heavy oak door.

“ ** _What do you mean, he said he wanted to stay there? Why would he? Lift the spell, Loki!”_**

_“I assure you, I-”_

**_“Enough of your lies! Tell me where he really is!”_ **

A series of loud bangs shook the walls, which I recognised as the shutters closing at speed on the windows in the main room. It’s one of the ways Loki lets off steam when he’s upset. I started to get up, thinking that perhaps my presence might pour oil on troubled waters. Then I noticed it was getting darker, and the distant sound of thunder started to roll in from the mountains to the north.

**_“Loki!”_ **

_“That was the truth, Thor! I will take you to him, if you insist. Then you can see for-”_

I opened the door and walked into the room, all casual, as if I hadn’t been eavesdropping, and glanced at Loki. “Take him where?” I smiled sweetly. “Can I come?”

I got a glare for my pains. _“No!”_

“Charming. Well, don’t be away too long, dear. Lily misses you, and Frey is going to take his first proper steps any day…” I was gabbling, talking too much as is my tendency when those two bicker, trying to break the tension, and it was working. The storm dissipated and the shutters swung open, at least, although the brothers were still looking daggers at each other. Loki grimaced and turned away, striding over to the terrace doors to stand there, hands clasped at his back, staring out at the city.

A large hand came to rest on my shoulder. **_“My Queen, I do not think we would be away for more than a day. I just need to, um see, er…”_** A flash of movement in the corner of my eye made me turn my head. Loki had swept back to stand by my side and took me by the hand, drawing me away from Thor, to rest against his own body and he put his arms around me in a rather proprietorial way. I smiled a little and leaned against my jealous demigod.

_“What my brother means is, he needs to see that I am telling the truth about what has happened to the All-Father.”_

“Odin?” He nodded. I did my best to sound casual; I’ve been dying to know and not sure I should ask. It has seemed like such a taboo subject, and since, as far as I could tell, Thor didn’t know either, I sure as hell wasn't entitled to, right? But now… “Where is he, Loki?”

_“He is on Midgard.”_

“What?” All this time, I’ve been here, and he’s been…there! “Where, exactly?”

_“At this moment, he is in Norway.”_ I nodded. That makes sort of sense. He’d fit right in there. What is he doing, though? Teaching a course in mythology? Training ravens?

_“Thor does not believe me when I say that his father does not wish to return to Asgard, so I must take him, to, um...”_

“Hear it from the horse’s mouth?”

The sky darkened again dramatically and I couldn’t help smirking. It’s living with Loki - it’s made me snide. **_“I beg your pardon?”_**

“Just an expression, Thor. It means, directly from the person themselves.”

**_“I see. My apologies.”_ **

Poor Thor; he looked thoroughly out of sorts. Then I took a proper look at my husband and saw that he was not exactly happy either. He was irritated, but it was more than just the normal simmering fury that’s always present when he’s with Thor. There was something more in his eyes that day, an unease I didn't like; it reminded me of the way he looked when he realised I was expecting Frey. Suddenly he leaned down and kissed me softly, which was unsettling, because he almost never gives me any PDAs with Thor in the room, and this was the second in almost as many minutes. _“We must leave now, my darling. Tell the children I will be back as soon as I can.”_

“Well, alright, but...”

_“I am sorry, my dearest, but I fear there can there can be no delay.”_

The air was humming, I could feel it, and I knew what that meant: Mjölnir was coming. Thor has sort of stopped bringing it (him? _her???_ ) to our rooms because Lily has been forever playing with it, decorating it with ribbons and so on, covering it with lumps of sparkly play dough… and while he pretended not to mind, Thor could see that it delighted Loki. And Thor, bless him, well, he still isn’t terribly good at laughing at himself. Nor is his brother, come to that. I’m working on that. _Boy, am I working on it_. But that‘s another story. 

A woosh, and there it was, in the God of Thunder’s massive hand. Loki gave me a wistful look and I couldn’t bear it. I had a terrible feeling of foreboding. Impulsively, I grabbed him, kissed him again, didn't want to let go, but I had to. It wasn’t logical and you know me, Mrs Rational. But everything about this was off, and my worries were heightened when Thor held out an arm and Loki stepped into his grasp. They both flew off, out of the terrace doors, towards the Bifrost.

I haven’t seen either of them since.

_____________________________________

I thought I’d seen it all since Loki arrived in my life, but I ought to have known better. Asgard just keeps on surprising me. Heimdall has led me and everyone else in my not inconsiderable entourage carefully but quickly up a series of twisting paths which meander through woods and along the edges of precipitous slopes and now we are at our destination: a giant pair of doors in the side of a mountain. They look for all the world as if they have come straight out of _The Lord of the Rings._ Carved with a beautiful pattern of runes and figures from Norse myth, the great tree Yggdrasil at the centre, they must be fifteen feet tall, at least. I want to admire them longer, but there is an urgency about everything today. Even so, I half expect these magnificent things to swing open and Ian McKellen in his grey hat to wave us in impatiently, but no, Heimdall pulls on a giant handle and one of them creaks ominously as it begins to move.

As the door opens wider, I see a great chamber beyond, and then I see there is a familiar figure waving to us, calling us to hurry inside. It’s not Gandalf, though; it is the Lady Sif. She looks fired up, eyes blazing, cheeks flushed, and she is dressed in her full battle armour. I look around for the Warriors Three, with whom she is usually to be found (when she isn't mooning after Thor - but more of that later), but they are not in sight. She bows in her accustomed charming way. I thinks she likes me, but I can see she’s less than thrilled at being stuck here looking after the women and children.

“My Queen, this way, we have made you a private area in this corner.” I follow her to a nice sort of a spot, a bit raised up from the floor of what is, basically, a huge cave, and look around. There are actually quite a few people here already, I’d say about 500 or so. All kinds, gathered in huddles here and there, with bundles of belongings. Families, all ages, some with their dogs, a few with the odd goat or cow. Everybody looks frightened; there is an unnatural quiet. Most eyes are on me. Never before have I felt my regal responsibility so heavily. Sif is fussing around behind me, arranging my bags, bossing the maids and glaring at people as she tends to. “I think you will be comfortable, Your Majesty.”

“Sif, what the fu-” I steady myself. I remember, I can’t lose it. The kids are here, not to mention all the people watching me. Looking to me for - the gods help them - _leadership._ “Lady Sif, please, tell me, what’s going on?”

Before she can answer me a series of loud booms echo around the room. They obviously come from the city and Sif looks anxiously at Heimdall. “Asgard is under attack, Your Majesty,” she says somewhat redundantly as she nods curtly to the Gatekeeper who turns on his heels and leaves.

“No shit,” I mutter, noting with bitter relish her irritation at her situation. “Are the King and Prince Thor in the city?”

I see her flinch at the mention of his name. “I know not, my Queen. I do not believe so.”

I look over at Lily. She’s three going-on forty, that one, wise beyond her years and she worships her Daddy as if he weren’t some weirdo alien who just materialised in our flat one night and miraculously stopped her crying when I had locked myself in the bathroom in desperation, terrified I might hurt her. Lily might not know much, but she does know that what is happening constitutes a threat to him, and to us all. Her eyes are like saucers and I can see she’s on the verge of tears. Another loud noise makes everybody jump and she runs to me. As I gather her into my arms I hear Frey’s fretful grizzling and reach for him as well. I look around; we are just one family among so many, all of us huddling together for comfort, all of afraid, every one of us worried for our menfolk and our home.

_____________________________________________

Hours pass. Thanks to pregnancy-induced exhaustion, I doze a bit, and thankfully the children sleep too. Sif stands guard behind us, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Every so often a fresh batch of refugees shows up with Heimdall, and there are regular, tooth-rattling booms or just infra-sonic sounds that make you feel awful without being able to say why. There seems little point in asking again who is attacking, or why, or to what end. If the current regime is overthrown, then there won’t be much mercy for us. Rather than dwell on that, and searching for distraction, I turn my thoughts to the Lady Sif and her… let’s call it a ‘predicament’.

One thing that I have learned in the little over a year I have been here is that the palace runs on gossip, much like most large organisations. And gossip about romantic and/or sexual relationships is, naturally, the most popular kind. But I don’t need to hear any tittle-tattle to work out that Sif is carrying a torch for Thor. It is written all over her face every time she is in his company, bless her. I don’t think he knows, but then, men are pretty useless when it comes to noticing stuff like that, aren’t they? And come to that most of the Asgardian girls look at Thor as if they’d like to eat him for breakfast, lunch and dinner, but with Sif it’s different. It’s not frivolous or flirtatious, and it’s definitely more than just about sex. But anyway, I see how her eyes never leave him, and how sad they are. She is absolutely beautiful. I mean, she’s athletic, naturally, being a fighter, but she has a gorgeous face, sensitive eyes, glossy dark brown hair. She smiles and her whole face changes, and her laugh… Hold on, it’s starting to sound as if I’m the one who fancies _her._

I’ve been puzzling about the two of them for a while, actually. At first, I couldn’t work out why, in all these years of battles and adventures, Thor hasn't at least tried, (I checked with Loki) and then one day I saw her at fighting practice and wondered if perhaps she might have dislocated his shoulder when they were younger or something. Or maybe she rebuffed him? She is pretty damn fierce. And then it occurred to me; to get where she is, to be considered an equal warrior, she can't afford to be thought of as a girl at all, not in this society. It’s not particularly ‘woke’ around here. Not terrible, I mean Loki’s OK, but it has its feudal moments, believe me. So Sif has probably had to put away feminine things, to a certain extent. She wouldn’t want people to think she flirted her way to the top, or worse… But now they’re all adults, Thor’s a free agent… And Theresa from Midgard is Queen of Asgard now. If we all get out of this alive, I know what my next project is going to be.

Matchmaking sounds exactly like the sort of thing a queen does.

_________________________________________

We’re in hiding. The days and nights are the same in here because we keep the doors shut and live by the light of the Asgardian-technological equivalent of torches and candles. Because of that, and also thanks to the way I tend to drop off to sleep at odd times, I’ve totally lost track of how long we’ve been here. Gerda says it’s three days, but it feels longer. I put on a brave face for the children and the staff, not to mention the other people around but I want to curl up in a ball and just cry. I know something’s happened to Loki, something bad, because Mary Poppins has disappeared.

It happens soon after we get here, but I don’t think Frey notices because he’s become really clingy with me and I feel a need to touch both him and Lily more, so I am able to protect them from it. It’s tough to handle though; Mary’s been there, around, a presence, for so long. All of Frey’s life. And suddenly she’s gone. And she’s part of Loki, so it can only be a bad sign. And I just can’t bear it. It’s obvious that the quick trip to see Dad in Norway has morphed into something else a lot less straightforward, and all I can do is trust in Loki and Thor to get through it. Sif and the other military types aren’t forthcoming, but in any case, I don’t think they know much. Whatever this is, however it’s going, I just want it to be over. Soon.

Heimdall is here all the time now, he says he’s brought everyone he can reach. He keeps having hushed conferences with Sif in corners, looking serious, not telling me a thing. It’s annoying, but at the same time, do I really want to know? The bangs, booms and rumbles start to get louder and people in the cavern are getting more scared - me included - when Heimy (I call him that, but only in my head) goes very still and quiet. I start to ask him something but Sif lays a hand gently on my arm.

“He’s communicating,” she whispers.

“Who with?” I whisper back.

“Wait, Madam, please…”

Heimdall’s face clears and he glances at me, expression as neutral as ever, then he moves his attention on again. “Lady Sif, come with me. Your Majesty, you may wish to accompany us to the Bifrost. Leave the children here. They will be safe enough now.”

“Wha…?”

“My Queen, will you come?” He is holding out his hand, and I see he is actually smiling slightly, and best of all, Mary P has shimmered back into existence in the corner next to the children! Loki must be closer, at least… I take Heimdall’s hand and with his help, negotiate the narrow tracks that lead down the mountainside and out along the now pock-marked and partially burnt Rainbow Bridge to the Bifrost.

Looking back at the city as we cross, I can see that Asgard is not in ruins, as I expected, but it has taken quite a battering, especially the palace. Windows are broken, some holes have appeared in towers, there is masonry missing. Perhaps this will be a chance for some remodelling? Anyway, I turn back and continue my journey; for the moment I am only focussed on Loki. Where is he, and is he OK? Is Thor with him, and what of Odin? Heimdall seems calm, but then, at no point during any of this did he seem panicked, so that’s hardly any guide. I stand to one side as he slides his sword into the thingy which activates the mechanism and a wormhole connects.

Suddenly, there they are: Loki, more or less carrying an injured Thor. Sif rushes over to solicitously take his other arm. Loki is breathless but calm and in control. _“Get help for my brother, Heimdall!” Quickly! He needs the Healers!”_

Heimdall does as he is told and Thor is carted off by half a dozen guards, only just conscious. Sif goes with him, and as they leave she gives me a grateful look. I smile back; I am definitely sorting that out, ASAP. Loki, battered, a bit bloody but apparently OK, walks carefully over and takes hold of me. “ _Are the children well, my darling?”_ He sounds exhausted.

“They’re fine, Loki.”

_“And you, my darling Theresa? How are you and our little unborn princess?”_

Oh, for fuck’s… “We’re OK. But what’s happened, Loki? How did Thor get hurt? Where’ve you been, who attacked Asgard, why did-”

I stop because I suddenly notice that he is holding something in his left hand. Something that, by all tradition, myth and whatever, Loki, God of Lies should be the very last being in the Cosmos capable of lifting.

“Loki...”

_“Yes, my dearest?”_

“Is that…. that is _Mjölnir_ you’re holding, isn’t it?”

He looks down his arm at the Hammer of Thor as if he hadn’t noticed it there before. Then he smiles, but it’s not a wicked smile, more one of genuine delight. _“I do believe it is, yes.”_

I wrap my arms around his waist. “So, I suppose that must mean that you are worthy, then.”

He kisses me and holds me a little closer. _“I can only attribute that to your good influence, my Theresa.”_

I look at him standing there, so handsome, so proud, but not in the haughty way of old. His beautiful green eyes glisten in the sparkling lights of the Bifrost as he looks down at me, the great Hammer of the Gods held so casually in his hand. When we first stood here together, the day I arrived here, I was afraid, a refugee with an uncertain future, and Loki’s status was a mystery to me. Now I am sure: he is my husband, he is the father of my children, he is the King of Asgard.

And he is more than worthy.


End file.
